The Vow (16 page)

‘
Just a few weeks. Why, do you know him?’ Ellen enquired.

‘
Not personally, but I certainly know of him, he’s a major player. Got a brilliant business brain, he built a fairly poor company into a multi-national concern pretty much singlehanded. I read somewhere that he’s likely to be knighted soon.’

‘
But you don’t know anything about his personal life?’

‘
No, not much. He has a reputation for being obsessed with his privacy. Got an enormous Nigerian who drives him and seems to act as bodyguard too. And there’s the odd rumour of course.’

‘
Like what?’ prompted Ellen.

‘
Well, like you really don’t want the aforementioned black man turning up at your door. And Delacroix is supposed to be tight with a very beautiful London brothel keeper.’

‘
Is he now!’

‘
Now don’t go repeating that to Lucy. The City is rife with gossip, there’s probably no truth in it.’

As they walked Simon had taken Ellen’s hand and without her really noticing had been guiding her towards a large oak tree. It was here, out of the view of the other guests, he kissed for the first time the woman he would love and lose.

~

The band was really rath
er good and the dance floor getting crowded. Catherine left Rex whirling a breathless Sarah around with his customary energy and stepped out into the garden to have a cigarette.

Joining her there, Kit commented,
‘It’s all gone very well, don’t you think?’

‘
Couldn’t have been better,’ she agreed. ‘Just as well you have us lot and plenty of friends or you’d be swamped by Sarah’s clan. You’re a bit short of relatives.’

‘
That’s what comes of being the only child of two only children, still it has its advantages. Are you thinking of marrying Rex, Catherine? You seem very well suited.’

She smiled.
‘Yes, we have a really good time together but I don’t think we’ll risk spoiling it by getting married. It’s tempting though, after a lovely day like today.’

‘
Well, you seem to have got something out of it yourself. Do you think Marcus was serious about the interview?’

Catherine shrugged.
‘Who knows? But I shall follow it up with his PR people this week.’

Kit said nothing, but she knew what he was thinking.

‘Don’t worry, Kit, I’m not out to make trouble. The fact remains that Delacroix is a very newsworthy man. He has immense business acumen, he’s forward-looking, not afraid to take risks, and because he shuns publicity he’s become an enigma. That’s what my readers are interested in, not some smutty exposé. Now, Martin Culver would be the man for that, if he were as well informed as I am.’

‘
You’re not thinking of…’

‘
No, I’m certainly not,’ interrupted Catherine. ‘I wouldn’t give that little creep the time of day let alone a tip off!’

~

Lucy had drunk far too much Champagne. She didn’t realise this until, after making their farewells, she and Marcus walked out into the cool night air. Her head began to swim and she had to make a concentrated effort to walk in a straight line towards the car. Marcus watched her progress with amusement.

Once safely belted into her seat, something which took quite an effort to achieve, she promptly fell asleep. The next thing she knew Marcus
was gently shaking her and telling her they were home. Deep gravel and high heels do not mix well when the wearer is under the influence of alcohol and seeing her sway perilously, Marcus gave her his arm.

Stating the obvious, Lucy told him,
‘I think I may be drunk.’

‘
Only a little,’ he assured her.

Propping her up against the porch he managed to open the front door and once inside Lucy, giggling helplessly, put her arms around his neck and slurred,
‘Shall we dance?’

‘
Perhaps not.’

‘
Then I suppose a shag’s out of the question?’

‘
I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Lucy.’

‘
Oh, go on!’ she urged, just before passing out.

~

Bringing her breakfast in bed Simon told Ellen, ‘I consider myself very lucky to have you in my bed, despite your being an ageing cover girl and man-eater.’

Beautiful even first thing in the morning, Ellen looked at him rather taken aback. With a flourish he produced the morning’s paper folded open at Culver’s page. Propping herself up on the pillows she reached out her hand and said with resignation,
‘Hand it over, let me see what the little cretin’s come up with this time.’

The photograph showed Kit and Sarah in the garden of the Archbishop
’s Palace, wreathed in smiles and being congratulated by Lucy and Marcus.

The report was in Culver’s usual flowery but malicious style.

The wedding of renowned photographer Kit Weston and Ms Sarah Thompson took place on Saturday in the rather lacklustre little town of Maidstone. His fourth wife, we can only wish the brave Sarah good luck. They are shown here being congratulated by the groom’s daughter Ms Lucy Weston and her beau Mr Marcus Delacroix who is, coincidentally, exactly the same age as her father. Will it be for them that the wedding bells chime, or should that be toll, next?

With the guests including the three former Mrs Westons, two with their new partners, the proceedings had the air of an episode of Dynasty. Mrs Amelia Bradshawe, first wife and mother of Lucy, was there with her architect husband James. Dressed in a striking black and white number she looked five years junior rather than senior to her successor, magazine editor Catherine Davies who is not ageing so well. Not been heeding the beauty mags warnings against chain smoking and the demon drink, have we, Catherine? Ellen Rose, ageing cover girl and notorious mantrap, completed the trio of women Kit Weston refers to as ACE.

Delacroix must be nervous of embracing such a monogamously challenged family, but then all young trophy girlfriends come with baggage.

‘
No, you’re wrong, look, it’s mantrap not man-eater,’ corrected Ellen. ‘So much more flattering I feel. Well, I think I got off quite lightly. There are those who will not be pleased, the inhabitants of Maidstone for a start! Poor old Lucy gets another kicking, Kit sounds like a latter day Henry the Eighth and Sarah like a lamb to the slaughter. Amelia will just be appalled that her name has even been mentioned in a gossip column and as for Catherine…’ A smile spread across her face. ‘This could be the beginning of the “Journo Wars”, I can’t see her taking this lying down.’

~

Lucy woke up with a raging thirst and thumping headache. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, then it all came flooding back to her, and she groaned with embarrassment. Looking at the small clock on the bedside table, she saw that it was just before ten and by the strength of the sunlight coming through a gap in the curtains she guessed it was yet another lovely day. Perhaps a cold shower might make her feel better. She threw back the covers to find she was wearing the silk camisole and matching French knickers from under her wedding outfit. She looked across the room and there were her clothes, neatly laid over a chair, her high-heeled sandals sitting primly underneath. Fairly confident that this was not of her own doing she groaned again. How humiliating. How was she going to face Marcus?

Fifteen minutes later, feeling slightly better from the effects of the punishingly cold water of the shower, cleaning her teeth three times, and the removal of the previous day’s makeup, she plucked up the courage to go downstairs. She had just reached the turn in the staircase when the front door opened and a tall woman carrying an overnight case, an armful of flowers and a newspaper, swept along the hall calling out in a shrill voice,

‘Marcus, are you there? What on earth is all that enormous digging equipment in the drive?’

She didn’t notice Lucy who stayed where she was and
, courtesy of the open kitchen door and raised voices, was able to hear the ensuing exchange.

‘
Good morning, Alicia.’ Marcus’s voice was initially level. ‘The equipment belongs to the contractors who are installing the swimming pool.’

‘
Swimming pool!’ his sister replied in a horrified tone. ‘Marcus, what are you thinking of? It will ruin the garden.’

‘
Serious consideration was given to its positioning and the men seem to be taking great care not to damage anything. Burt is here every day to make sure of that,’ he assured her.

Alicia was not impressed.
‘Well, I can’t think what Helena would have said!’

‘
How very unimaginative of you.’ Marcus’s tone was by now unpleasant. ‘Given her well known fear of water I think we can assume she would not have approved, but dear sister I would remind you of two things. Firstly, this is my house, I shall do with it as I please, and secondly Helena is dead.’

Aghast, Alicia snapped back,
‘Well really! I can only suppose this is the influence of that wretched girl you’ve got yourself tangled up with. You would never have said something like that before you met her.’

‘
Alicia, I should have thought that you would, after all these years, know me well enough to realise I am rarely influenced by anyone. Furthermore, as Lucy is in the house, I must insist you keep a civil tongue in your head as far as she is concerned.’

‘
What’s she doing here?’ Alicia asked indignantly.

‘
I might ask you the same,’ came his reply.

A little flustered by this she said,
‘It’s the ladies’ tournament this weekend, you must remember surely?’

His reply was laden with sarcasm.
‘Surprisingly enough I do have matters of more importance than your sporting fixtures to remember and attend to.’

‘
Yes!’ Alicia’s voice was triumphant and Lucy heard the thump of the newspaper as she threw it on the kitchen table. ‘Like getting yourself lampooned in the press yet again!’

Lucy had h
eard enough. She crept back up the stairs and returned to her room. She was not about to meet Marcus’s sister whilst sporting the obvious signs of a hangover, dressed in shorts and tee shirt and with no makeup.

~

Marcus tapped on the bedroom door and entered after hearing Lucy’s rather timid ‘Come in’. She sat at the dressing table applying blusher to her cheeks. Her hair, brushed until it shone, was arranged in an intricate knot on the top of her head and she was dressed in her peach linen dress.

‘
You’re looking remarkably lovely for someone who tried to drink Kent dry of Champagne yesterday,’ he told her.

Looking at his reflection behind her in the mirror rather than turn and meet his eye, Lucy replied,
‘It’s my second attempt of the day. I was on the stairs when your sister arrived.’

‘
Ah, and…?’

‘
And I stayed there, eavesdropping, until the part when she said you’d been lampooned in the paper again. Then I came back in here to try to make myself look like someone you wouldn’t be ashamed to introduce to your sister.’

Laughing, Marcus asked,
‘Do you always tell the truth, Lucy?’

‘
Pretty much, yes. I’m not actually very good at lying. Do I really look alright? I’m not looking forward to this, she doesn’t like me very much does she?’ She sounded nervous.

He looked at her thoughtful
ly for a moment before replying. ‘She doesn’t know you. Anyway, you don’t have to worry, I threw her out.’

Lucy’s jaw dropped.
‘Marcus! You didn’t, did you?’

‘
I damn well did. Serves her right! Don’t look so worried, she’s not out on the street, she can go and stay with her chum Ginny down the road.’

Lucy started to giggle.
‘Oh dear, I can just imagine what she’s saying about me.’

‘
Do you mind?’

‘
No, not really, not if you don’t.’

She had turned around to face him and he put out his hand which she took, suddenly feeling shy. He raised her hand and kissed it.

‘Lucy, I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve you.’

She blushed and told him,
‘Yes, I know. Marcus I’m sorry about last night.’

He smiled at the way she had misconstrued his words.
‘If you can’t get drunk at your father’s fourth wedding then when can you?’ he asked. ‘Anyway, you make a charming drunk and you didn’t throw up in the Aston.’

‘
Well, that’s something at least. But I have a feeling I did make a pass at you.’

She was very embarrassed by now.

‘Yes, and very tempting it was too. Now, we can’t have you all dressed up with nowhere to go so let’s go out for the day. Rye is only a thirty minute drive, it’s a very attractive town, I’ll show you the sights and then I know a really good place for lunch. I can’t believe even a hangover can take away that amazing appetite of yours.’